


Popular Slut Club

by SturgeonGuy29



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Bets & Wagers, Butt Plugs, Costumes, Humiliation, M/M, Sidney Crosby's real and confirmed humiliation kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 17:33:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20231686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SturgeonGuy29/pseuds/SturgeonGuy29
Summary: “So what’s the plan?” he asked Geno in the change room afterward, trying to act casual about it, when the truth was he was half-hard in his leggings from thinking about what Geno was going to collect as his winnings.





	Popular Slut Club

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this BFU art](https://blacktofade.tumblr.com/post/183802952865/ebonybow-this-shirt-was-too-good-to) which definitely looked like Sid on first glance. Thanks to zhenyabest for running Bottom Geno Week.

Sid lost the bet. He lost a lot, sometimes on purpose, although he wouldn’t ever admit that to Geno, who was already way too smug about every aspect of their relationship. This time he had really tried, though, because the deal was that whoever scored the most goals in practice won, and Sid didn’t fuck around when it came to practice. But he’d had an off day, or Geno was on, or maybe a combination of the two, and that was the thing about goals: there was no ambiguity. You scored or you didn’t. And Geno won.

“So what’s the plan?” he asked Geno in the change room afterward, trying to act casual about it, when the truth was he was half-hard in his leggings from thinking about what Geno was going to collect as his winnings. It was always humiliating, and Sid didn’t like to think about that too much, because it meant Geno knew him really well, even the weird and shameful parts he tried to keep hidden.

“You come over,” Geno said. He had dressed but not done his hair yet, and he had a towel draped over his shoulders to catch the drips. He put his phone back in his locker and gave Sid a bland look like they were just making dinner plans or something. “I think, hmm. When’s day off? After we back from Philly?”

“Yeah,” Sid confirmed. “Then?”

“You come home with me after we back,” Geno said. “We do then.”

Do _what_, Sid wanted to ask. But he knew better.

Sid pulled up Geno’s driveway before noon on their next day off. It was early enough that Geno would be pleased to see him, but irritated at having to get out of bed. That was how Sid liked him best: smug and a little bit mean. He would never give Geno what he wanted as easily as Geno wanted it for that exact reason. 

But Geno was already awake when Sid let himself in, humming along to a car commercial jingle on the radio while he fried eggs in the kitchen. Sid slid his arms around Geno’s waist and stood up on his toes so he could get his chin over Geno’s shoulder. Geno didn’t flinch, just cut between the eggs in the pan with his spatula like he’d been expecting Sid for hours; like Sid had slept over and Geno was just waiting for him to wake up. 

“You making me breakfast?” Sid asked. There were four eggs and a plate on the counter with a stack of toast. 

Geno scoffed but didn’t shrug him off. “You not eat already?” 

“Yeah, but I could always eat again.” He loved Geno’s eggs. They were overfried and underseasoned, and they were they only thing Geno knew how to cook, but on the merit of Geno cooking them alone he loved them. “Unless you need me somewhere else?”

Geno made a noise like he was considering exactly where he wanted Sid as he turned the stove burners off and moved the eggs one-by-one to sit with the toast. Sid let his fingers slide down Geno’s stomach to the elastic band of his sweats to inspire him.

“How about while I’m eat breakfast, you clean up,” Geno suggested, turning around in Sid’s arms to kiss the corner of his eye and spank his ass with the greasy underside of the spatula.

“Clean up?” Sid repeated. “Like, you want me to do your dishes?” 

“Do dishes, maybe dirty laundry, dust like, desk and cabinets, maybe wash car.” Geno’s voice had taken that lower, sexy edge that he had when he was asking Sid for that fourth finger in his ass, but the words coming out of his mouth were definitely not sexy. 

“Uh, sure,” Sid said. He was trying to not sound disappointed. “Don’t you usually have someone who does that for you? Is this my punishment for losing the bet?”

“Tatiana’s sick,” Geno replied, no doubt a lie, and pushed Sid back into the kitchen island to kiss him again. “So maybe you help clean up. I got you uniform.” 

Sid hadn’t noticed the bundle of clothes on the island counter when he came in, which Geno snaked an arm around him to grab and press into his hands before easing off and moving back to his food. Sid turned them over in his hands and felt his ears go hot with an instant flush of recognition. Geno had handed him a tiny pair of workout shorts he had no doubt saved from juniors, and a crop top he’d purchased several years ago when they had been out late one night in Tampa. It had cost too much money for so little fabric, and proudly proclaimed POPULAR SLUT CLUB in bold letters across the chest. Sid had said, “Gross, G. I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing that,” and Geno took that as a cue to go inside and buy it just to piss him off or something.

Or _something_, Sid thought as his flush crawled down his body while Geno stood in front of him, plate in hand, smiling as wide as his face.

“Do dishes first while I’m eat breakfast,” Geno said. He cut into the egg yolk to watch it spill out messy on his plate, and brought his fork up to his mouth to lick off its sticky side. “I like to watch.”

Sid wasn’t sure if he should go to the washroom and change or just--strip down right there, right in the middle of the kitchen. He wanted to make Geno suffer a little, maybe, because _he_ was red and overheating about it in a hurry. But Geno would probably punish him further for changing in secret; he always liked a show. 

At least it wasn’t an actual maid’s uniform, with the skirt and the little frilly hat and garters. He wouldn’t have put it past Geno to go for it--it would be so easy to flip the skirt up and--

“Well,” Geno said, raising his brow expectantly at Sid still standing in the middle of the room, clothes clutched in his sweaty palms. There was bright yellow yolk smeared to the side of Geno’s lower lip, and Sid watched as he lolled his tongue out to clean it up. 

He fumbled the clothes in his hands a little, and then bent down to set them on the floor. On the way back up, he popped the button and slid down the zipper on his jeans. He could feel himself getting hard already, which was yet another thing to make him flush. What if Geno really made him do yard work? The neighbors would _see_. There was no reason that he should be getting chubbed up at the thought of washing Geno’s tacky sports car while Mrs. Henderson ogled his moose knuckle. And yet.

He folded the sides of his fly so his dick could protrude a little through the space between them and sure enough, once he pulled his shirt off, Geno’s eyes were drawn exactly there, sizing him up. Sid knew what he liked. 

“You like?” Geno asked, putting his empty plate down on the island with a clatter and hooking a finger in Sid’s open waistband, rubbing it back and forth under the elastic band of his underwear. Sid’s dick visibly twitched. He was sure Geno could feel how blood-warm his skin was to the touch. “You excite?” 

Geno was smirking down at him like he knew the answer, that asshole. He knew how much Sid liked this, even if it made Sid burn beet red every time. Ashamed and aroused in equal measure. 

Sid pushed his jeans down without much fanfare, and tugged them awkwardly off of his feet and bent to pull the shorts on. He had one leg in when Geno put a hand over his hand to stop him. 

“Take this off,” Geno said, his hand holding Sid in place.

Sid was a little confused. “Wait, but I thought you wanted--”

“No, this,” Geno said, sliding his hand up Sid’s thigh and under the stretched-out edge of his boxer-briefs. “Take off. Shorts only.” 

He smiled wide as Sid dropped the shorts and his underwear, baring his dick to the cool air of the kitchen. It bobbed in front of him for a moment, still half hard. He didn’t want to look down. 

“You’re really going to make me do this with a stiffy the whole time?” Sid asked, because it was going to get pretty uncomfortable real quick. Sometimes Geno was feeling greedy enough to oblige Sid before everything was all said and done. He stuck his hip to the side a little, trying to cut an appealing figure. It could never hurt to try. 

“Stop delay,” Geno said, and blew out a little huff of air, clearly impatient. It was as good as a yes, he was _definitely_ going to make Sid do this hard, possibly for longer than Sid had initially anticipated. “C’mon.” 

Fine. Sid scowled and pulled on the shorts. They were obscenely small, the leg holes so tight around his thighs that he had to tug at them hard, each one in turn, before he was able to yank the waistband into place. He could feel his ass straining the fabric in the back. The whole thing was just--ridiculous, he probably looked ridiculous, and Geno was going to laugh at him and tell him that he looked stupid, or that he looked like a slut. Sid reached down to adjust his dick. The fabric was straining at the front, too.

“Good,” Geno said. He wasn’t laughing. He leaned back against the counter and reeled Sid in by the waistband, his mouth already open before their lips touched. He always kind of acted like this was all for Sid, that he did these things to indulge Sid’s weird kink and didn’t get much out of it himself, but the hot messy slide of his mouth told a different story. That was the only reason Sid kept making these stupid bets with him. 

Geno’s hands slid over Sid’s ass as they kissed, cupping and then squeezing. “Big,” he murmured, nuzzling at Sid’s ear. “Fat ass,” locker room trash talk he had picked up over the years, that never failed to make Sid squirm. His voice dropped to a low rumble. “You wash my car, bend over hood, let me pull down shorts, show me--”

“Stop it,” Sid said, bracing his hands against Geno’s chest to push himself back.

Geno wrapped his arms around Sid’s shoulders and drew him in again, which wasn’t hard, because Sid wasn’t really resisting. He kissed along Sid’s jaw, and Sid sighed and gave up and tilted his head back to let Geno have better access. “Show me your balls,” Geno said quietly. “Show me your asshole.”

“_God_,” Sid said, squirming for real now. Bent over Geno’s car, out in the driveway for anyone to see. And he knew how Geno was; Geno would just stand there and look, or maybe press his thumb to Sid’s asshole and wait for Sid to beg. 

“Not yet.” Geno gently pushed Sid away, smirking as his gaze dropped to Sid’s crotch. “You put shirt.” He bent to grab the crop top from the floor and pressed it into Sid’s hands.

POPULAR SLUT. Sid struggled into it, his face burning. The hem floated somewhere around the bottom of his ribcage, baring his navel and the soft flesh of his stomach. He tugged futilely, feeling way more exposed than he did naked. These fucking shorts. This fucking crop top. He was all the way hard and Geno could absolutely tell, with the clingy shorts and zero protection from a T-shirt long enough to provide some cover. It was just all out there.

Geno leaned against the counter again, slouching back on his elbows, and gave Sid the world’s slowest once-over. When his eyes finally made their way back to Sid’s face, they were dark and heavy-lidded. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s go look in mirror.”

Sid let Geno manhandle him upstairs to the guest bedroom where they could both get a good look at the damage in the sliding mirrored closet doors. The room was a little darker than the rest of the house, with only one small window on the far wall, blue, morning haze filtering past the outdoor tree’s shadowline. Naturally, Geno had to turn on all the lights.

Sid had a hard time looking at himself. He still hadn’t taken off his socks, and it was impossible to avoid the way the seams of Geno’s shorts puckered up the line of his legs. The entire walk upstairs had been tight but breezy, and Sid could see now how the cheeks of his ass just hung out the leg, hem snug around the swell. His balls hurt. His dick was an angry line against his thigh. 

“Not bad,” Geno said, reaching around to grab his dick and give it a mean squeeze, and Sid shuddered and said, “_Jesus_.”

But he didn’t stop Geno for a second from palming him through the shorts or thumbing across the clear outline of his head. He let Geno nudge him forward with his chest pressing into Sid’s back, and he listened when Geno said, “Put your hands against mirror. Let me see.”

He knew exactly what Geno was asking. He lifted his hands up above his head and pressed them palms down against the mirror, where they would no doubt leave a greasy smear by the end of this. The crop top rode up his torso so the fringed hem was right at his pecs, like a butterfly kiss on his nipples. “Am I gonna have to clean this up too?”

“Depends,” Geno said slowly, locking eyes with Sid in the mirrored glass, hooking his chin for a moment over Sid’s bunched-up shoulder and smiling, small and a little wicked. “Maybe no, if you good.” 

His hands slid down to cup the constricted muscle at the bottom of Sid’s ass, gripping it roughly, sliding his fingers under the hem of the shorts until Sid could hear them rip a little. “Ass too big,” Geno said, “ruin my shorts.” Even though Geno had been the one to do it. 

Geno’s smirk deepened, and he slid his hands up to snap the waistband of the shorts and then slithered his hands down inside, gripping Sid’s dick where it was painful and leaking. 

“Fuck,” Sid groaned, and screwed his eyes shut tight. He couldn’t keep watching Geno watch him, knowing how Geno’s eyes were assessing him, greedy and pleased about it. 

“Open,” Geno said, after a minute or so of tugging lazily on Sid’s dick. Sid knew what Geno wanted, and he knew that Geno wouldn’t give Sid what _he_ wanted until he acquiesced. He cracked open one eye just enough that he could see himself, his reflection garish and ridiculous, the shorts pushed down now, enough that the deep pink head of his dick was peeking out over the waistband. Geno’s hand held him snug in place. 

“It’s good?” Geno asked him, a question he already knew the answer to. Sid nodded anyway, dumb and automatic. “Good, show me.”

Geno extracted his hands from Sid’s shorts, the movement jostling the fabric enough that Sid’s dick popped out even more, bobbing in front of him, angry and red with the foreskin pulled back. He was about six inches away from leaving a smear of precome dripping down the mirror. 

“Fuck,” Sid said, when Geno’s hands roamed up under the fringed edge of the crop top and twisted his nipples. He watched his belly clench up in the mirror. Slowly, he slid one of his raised hands down the mirror’s face and brought it to his own dick, curling around it and twitching his hips forward in relief. Geno always wanted it like this: he wanted Sid to be so fucking embarrassed that he couldn’t see straight, and he wanted to watch him work himself over the edge. Sid never lasted long, and he knew that today wouldn’t be any different. 

Geno pressed close behind him, rubbing his hard dick against Sid’s ass, palming Sid’s ass and thighs and hungrily watching his reflection in the mirror. “You so hard. You wet, like--” He broke off and said something in Russian, squeezing Sid’s hips. “You like so much, you can’t help.”

Sid really didn’t want to hear Geno’s thoughts about how reliably he went belly-up when Geno bullied him a little. He stroked his dick, hissing through his teeth at how good it felt, how close he was already. Geno tugged Sid’s hips back to grind against him, the long thick line of his cock riding up between Sid’s cheeks. Sid couldn’t help thinking about how easy it would be for Geno to tug the shorts down and slide in, and make Sid watched the pleased agony of his own expression as Geno fucked an orgasm out of him.

“You want to come?” Geno asked. He hooked his chin over Sid’s shoulder, curled around him. “I know you need.”

“Yeah,” Sid said, too far gone to argue. His balls throbbed. He moved his hand faster, clenching his ass cheeks to drive his hips into his fist. His eyelids sank shut again.

“Open,” Geno said right into his ear, with a hard pinch at Sid’s love handle.

Sid groaned and dragged his eyes open. There was his stupid flushed face, the long bare expanse of his belly. His wet cockhead peeking out of his fist. He hated how much he loved this.

“Look so good,” Geno whispered to him. He gently wrapped his hand around Sid’s wrist and squeezed, halting Sid’s movements. “But you wait now.” He kissed Sid’s ear and carefully tucked Sid’s erection back into the shorts.

“What?” Sid said, baffled at first, and then despairing as he realized that Geno was honestly shutting this down. “G, come on--”

“You do dishes.” Geno cupped Sid’s balls through the shorts. “Do laundry.” His other hand slid down the back of the shorts, his fingers pressing between Sid’s cheeks to rub dry at his hole. “Clean my floor.”

“You can’t be serious.” He was going to nut in his shorts like he was in middle school if Geno kept this up much longer. He was going to come untouched smelling like Pine-Sol on Geno’s kitchen floor while Geno drank tea and watched.

“Like heart attack,” Geno said. He swiped the pad of his finger over Sid’s hole one more time and then finally, blissfully pulled away. “I’m never joke.”

Sid grimaced and willed his dick to calm down just a little bit. The words POPULAR SLUT CLUB glaring at him backwards in the mirror helped if he didn’t think too hard about them.

“Fine.” He put his hands on his hips and bit his lip and tried to concentrate on that instead. “Where do you want me?”

“Kitchen first,” Geno replied. He was already headed out the door and back downstairs, acting completely unaffected. He stopped with his hand on the frame and tapped his finger there once, thoughtfully. “Dishes, floor. Then maybe you get on car, you know, like Paris HIlton with hamburger.”

Christ. If Sid didn’t love him so much, he would probably hate Geno. At least the mental image was enough to send his dick back down to half mast, and he could follow behind Geno to inevitably make a bigger fool of himself. A bet was a bet, after all, and he had lost. 

Geno’s kitchen wasn’t actually that dirty. It was cluttered, sure, but the only dirty dishes out were the ones that Geno had been using when he had arrived. Sid lifted the frying pan from the stove top and faced it toward Geno, who was picking up his cooling mess of eggs with a piece of toast and shoving as much as he could fit in his mouth at once. “You have a sponge?”

Geno blinked up at him and then at the pan and chewed loudly with his mouth open for four more bites. “Under sink, maybe?” 

“Thanks,” Sid said, squatting down to get a new sponge. The pop pop pop of the shorts finally giving out and tearing up to expose Sid’s entire ass was unmistakable. Sid didn’t even have to feel for the tear. He could tell the shorts had split clean up the middle, breezy where Geno’s fingers had teased only a minute ago. Sid could hear him push his plate away on the island and step around to investigate the noise.

“Wow,” Geno said, taking Sid in, a little breathless. “Ass so fat, Sid.”

Sid thought at first that Geno might step forward and put his hand there, right where the breeze was coolest, but he stood still, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest. Sid looked back at him for a moment, long enough that Geno had to remind him.

“Keep clean,” Geno said, crossing his legs at the ankle, really settling in. Sid turned the tap on and adjusted the temperature until it was just this side of scalding, hot enough to be painful on the skin of his hands. He slathered the sponge in soap and let it foam up all over his skin, dripping down over his wrists as he scrubbed. 

“Not first pants you rip, I think,” Geno said, like he hadn't been there the last time Sid busted out of one of his game day suits on the road, the wool tearing beyond repair. “Maybe you like, maybe you want people see.”

Sid couldn't say that he wanted _everyone_ to see, but he liked when Geno watched him, his slow, considering gaze. “Maybe you want someone come up and touch, everything out there, so easy,” Geno continued, really digging into the fantasy. Geno loved to tell it in bed sometimes, when they got drunk and sloppy, pinning Sid to the bed with his warm, sweaty body and telling Sid how much he thought about putting him over the bench in the change room, pulling down his sweats, making everyone watch. As humiliating as it was to think about any of the guys on the team seeing him, he couldn't deny how the sick dream of it never failed to get him off. 

“You think this is clean enough?” Sid asked, holding the pan up for inspection. It was gleaming. 

“Hmm,” Geno said, and walked closer, like there was any single crumb on it to inspect. “No, not sparkle.” 

Sid rolled his eyes, but dunked the pan back under the water, scrubbing vigorously at nothing. At least this would give his forearms a workout. 

Geno didn't step back. He plopped his chin over Sid's shoulder, watching him scrub. His hands came down to play with the split open seam of the shorts, brushing teasingly over Sid's goosepimpled skin. “Wow, Sid,” he said, brushing more intentionally. “You really ruin, maybe I make you fix.” He snapped the waistband against Sid's back, right above where the slit started. Sid could hear his smirk. 

“Sure, where’s your sewing kit?” Sid asked, knowing Geno didn’t have one.

“Hmm, maybe find later,” Geno said, refusing to back down from his bullshit: no surprise there. His fingers skimmed over the open seam again, tracing the cleft of Sid’s ass. The gentle touch felt better than Sid wanted it to. “You finish dishes first, okay?”

“I mean. I’m doing them right now.” Geno’s fingers slid down to where the split began, right behind Sid’s balls, and rubbed over Sid’s perineum. Sid had to stop scrubbing for a moment and focus on his breathing. Geno was going to tease him all morning and not let him get off until Sid was nothing but a desperate throbbing nerve ending, frantic to come. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Good,” Geno said. He stepped back. “When you done, you do laundry.” Sid turned his head in time to see Geno grab his phone from the island and leave the kitchen. Just left Sid there with his ass in the breeze, doing the dishes.

“You piece of shit,” Sid muttered to himself, meaning it wholeheartedly in that moment. Well, he’d lost the bet.

Not that he’d be doing anything much different if he had won. Geno had his number.

He could have put Geno’s plate and cutlery in the dishwasher, but he went ahead and washed them by hand, because it gave him a minute to cool down. He wiped down the countertops and the range. His dick felt a little less angry when he was done. He went upstairs to put a load of laundry in the washing machine. 

Alone in Geno’s bedroom, he studied his reflection in the floor mirror near the laundry area. Fresh shame flooded through him at the sight of the ridiculous outfit and his visibly still half-hard dick. He touched himself through the shorts a little, glancing repeatedly at the door to make sure Geno didn’t appear and scold him for breaking the rules. He couldn’t help himself. 

Except just touching turned into sliding his hand down his shorts, and he stumbled back toward the bed and pulled himself out, feeling more than a little reckless. What if Geno _did_ come in and see him like this and yell at him about it. What if he came in and put his hand over Sid's hand, or dropped to his knees between Sid's splayed open thighs. 

Geno's mouth was always hot and sloppy, and sometimes, when he was all done with his endless teasing games and Sid was fit to fucking burst, leaking and more than a little irritated, Geno would use it on him. Pin him to the floor, slide his huge hands so sweetly up the insides of Sid's thighs. He leaned back and jerked himself to the memory of Geno bullying into his locker at the rink and pulling Sid's soft dick out and suckling him all the way to rock hard, just minutes before the rest of the team trickled in from optional skate. 

"Sid?" Sid froze, hearing Geno's voice echo down the hall, back from wherever he had fucked off to. "You up here?" 

Sid scrambled to grab a basket of clothes to start folding, but the only one that was nearby was already neatly folded and stacked. He dumped it all over the bed and picked up a shirt and then another, folding them into neat squares. 

His back was turned when Geno came into the room, and he could feel his cheeks hot with guilt and his dick angry in his shorts. If he let Geno look at him surely Geno would know he'd been thinking and not just thinking but--deliberately disobeying him. 

Geno came up behind him brushed a hand up his back under the hem of the crop top, scratching with his nails until Sid felt himself shiver. Then he just flopped onto the bed, right on top of the pile of unfolded clothes, and began sifting through them.

“So slow,” he said, picking up a pair of shorts and folding them haphazardly and tossing them into Sid’s finished pile, disrupting the whole thing. “I tell Tatiana how bad you are. Such bad maid for me.” He was smirking, his eyes shiny, entirely pulling Sid’s chain. 

He got up from the bed in a quick jolt and went into the closet and rummaged around, shuffling through a few cubbies until he found what he wanted. When he emerged, he had his hands held behind his back, concealing his prize. “Think maybe you don’t work hard enough,” Geno said, even though Sid was still dutifully folding his ten million white t-shirts. “Maybe you don’t want reward.” 

Sid swallowed. Geno was hard in his sweatpants, not just a half-chub but a full-on inconvenient erection, and between that and the menacing glint in his eyes, Sid had a feeling the teasing was over and they were going to start careening directly downhill into whatever it was Geno had decided he wanted. 

“Well?” Geno said, his eyebrows up, impatient.

“I think I’ve earned it,” Sid said. “I did your dishes. I put a load of laundry in. I’m folding your clothes--”

“I say do floor,” Geno said. 

“Really,” Sid said flatly. He tossed a folded shirt onto the pile. He knew Geno could see his dick, and probably the wet spot he’d leaked across the front of the shorts. He tugged the waistband out of the way and reached inside to adjust himself, giving his dick a squeeze as he did, watching Geno’s gaze drop to track the motion. “Maybe I need some incentive.”

Geno came closer and showed Sid what he was holding: Sid’s favorite butt plug, angled just right to put a constant firm pressure on his prostate. 

“That’s not a _reward_,” Sid said, clenching down on nothing, “that’s--”

“You want or not?” Geno tossed it on the bed and went around to the nightstand to take out the lube, so obviously it didn’t matter what Sid said or didn’t say. Geno had already made up his mind.

Sid bent over the side of the bed, bracing himself with his hands on the mattress. The look on Geno’s face when he turned and saw Sid waiting for him gave Sid a powerful surge of satisfaction. Geno wasn’t ever as unaffected as he pretended to be.

Geno tossed the lube and plug on the bed beside Sid’s hands. Sid put his head down as Geno ran his fingers along the exposed cleft of Sid’s ass. He used his thumbs to pull Sid open, baring his hole, and said, “Open lube.”

Sid fumbled with the cap. When Geno extended one hand, Sid obediently put the bottle into it, and a moment later flinched as Geno squeezed the lube directly onto his hole. He flinched again as Geno pushed a blunt finger into him, pressing him open, so turned on that he almost couldn’t handle it.

“G,” he said, gripping the covers, squeezing hard around Geno’s finger.

“Shh, I’m busy,” Geno said, but then finally--thank God--he took out his finger and slid the plug into Sid’s ass.

Sid tried to straighten, but Geno clamped a firm hand on the back of his neck and kept him bent over the bed. “G, what--”

“I think you fuck me now,” Geno said.

Sid had never fucked anyone with the plug in at the same time, and just thinking about it was making him groan, imagining it shifting and nudging his prostate with every thrust. He was going to come immediately, way before Geno wanted him to. 

"Yeah, okay," Sid said, because no one had ever said he wasn't game. "How you want it? On your back? You wanna ride me?" 

Geno pressed him until he flipped over onto his back, landing on the bed with a thump. The plug turned crooked for a second, and he twitched visibly as it brushed his prostate. He let his legs hang off the edge of the bed, and Geno crawled on top of him, looking amused and turned on in equal measure, staring at the really obvious wet mess Sid had made in his shorts. 

Well, that answered that, then. 

But Geno didn't take Sid's dick out. He stripped off his own shirt, peeling it over his head until it caught on his ear and he had to wiggle the rest of the way. Sid watched with bated breath as he tugged open the ties on his sweats, pulled them down his thighs, and tugged his own dick free a little, the rounded shape of it in his briefs distended over the waistband’s elastic edge. 

"Seems like you're pretty interested," Sid said, still staring. 

Geno didn't dignify him with a response, and Sid flushed, shamelessly into it when Geno got bossy with him. "Shh," Geno hissed, and planted his hands on either side of Sid's body and shifted forward and ground down against him, rubbing hard against Sid's dick where he was bursting and too-sensitive. 

Sid groaned and bit his lip, his stomach quivering. "Shit," he said, feeling the bubbling pleasure from the friction of Geno's sweats against the length of his dick. 

"Don't come," Geno said. 

Sid groaned again. “_How._” He was so worked up after Geno teasing him all morning. He would go off for sure if Geno kept doing that. 

Geno bent down to press his lips to Sid’s ear. “Because I say.”

Sid didn’t know what was worse: Geno’s words or the way he ground against Sid’s cock through his shorts. He felt like he could come at basically any time, just let go and let it happen. But then Geno would be disappointed in him, and would probably make fun of him for losing it so quickly. Not that that was necessarily a disincentive.

But Geno pulled back then and stood up to strip out of his sweats. Sid pushed up onto his elbows to watch the reveal: Geno’s thick, flushed cock, the muscle above his hips and the softness around his navel. He squeezed helplessly around the plug, forcing a moan out of him. Geno looked so fucking good, and Sid was so turned on, and was probably going to shoot his load as soon as he got inside Geno’s ass. 

He wet his lips. “Geno, I’m gonna--I don’t think I can, uh. Last.”

“You do for me,” Geno said. He moved to the edge of the bed, nudging Sid’s knees wider so he could stand between them, and fished Sid’s dick and balls out of the shorts, letting the waistband nudge up under Sid’s nuts. He stroked his palm over the whole package, proprietary, and up over Sid’s exposed stomach, pushing beneath the crop top to scratch lightly at Sid’s nipples. He raised his eyebrows and said, “Give me your cock.”

“Okay,” Sid said weakly. “Sure.”

He climbed gingerly to his feet, as well as he could with his shorts tugged down and Geno in his immediate space. Geno was still smirking down at him, one eyebrow raised like he was enjoying Sid's awkward embarrassment maybe as much as Sid was enjoying it himself. 

"C'mon," Sid said, pressing on Geno's chest until he turned. "You want me to give it to you? Lay down, c'mon." 

He pressed Geno down into the bed, his ass high, and then higher when Sid took one of the pillows and shoved it under his hips. Sid ran his hands up the long pale expanse of Geno's back, raking his nails down it a little, because he loved watching Geno shake.

"You so slow," Geno said, hitching his hips up into Sid's roaming hands. "You fuck me or not?" 

Truthfully, Sid was just delaying to cool down a little, clenching tight around the plug, trying to give his dick a few moments to chill the fuck out. 

"One second," he said, and tucked his hand in the waistband of the shorts to pull them off the rest of the way, but he didn't get more than a couple of inches before Geno stopped him. 

“No,” Geno said, fingertips sweaty on the back of Sid’s hand. “Keep on.” And Sid locked eyes with him, raising an eyebrow at Geno’s challenging gaze that dared him to argue. He removed his hands and left the shorts where they were: absolutely utterly destroyed and suffocating his quads, tight just under his ass. If anything, maybe the uncomfortable press of them would help him delay the inevitable onslaught of early orgasm. 

He took the base of his dick in one hand and hitched Geno’s hips up roughly with the other where they had slumped lazily over the pillow. “Keep your ass up.” The shape of it was so fucking round, dotted bright pink and shiny with sweat. He pressed the leaking head of his dick to the tight curl of Geno’s hole and felt it give easier than he had expected. “Is this what you were doing while you sent me up here to fold your shit?” he asked, sliding his fingers around where he and Geno were joined together. The skin was still a little tacky with lube and he pressed in further, all the way to the base, and watched as Geno turned his face into the blankets and groaned. 

After a tense few seconds, Geno squirmed underneath him in a way that made Sid’s stomach turn, like molten lead pouring straight from his spine to his balls. Geno moaned again and brought his arm up so he could tuck his face into the crook of his elbow. “Move.”

“Nuh-uh,” Sid said, thrusting in as much as he could to wrestle Geno’s arm away, get Geno’s eyes on him. “If you want me to fuck you like this, you have to look at me. You have to watch.”

He rocked his hips in again, as much as he could allow this close to the edge with his favorite plug nestled just so inside him. Geno bit his lip and shifted in a way that made Sid’s eyelids flutter, and he tried to cover his face again. Sid had to hold him down. 

He adjusted his lube-slick grip on Geno’s arm and let his body weigh them both against the bed. It was an awkward position and they were so sweaty already, bodies heaving because Geno was clearly desperate to get fucked and Sid was desperate to finally get off. As Sid widened his thighs more, intent on fucking in deeper, he could hear the shorts continue to tear up the back, up the sides as he flexed, thrusting in. It was too much. 

“Like first time, maybe,” Geno said with a sly smile, which was real rich coming from a guy who couldn’t even look at Sid. But Sid had a competitive edge that refused to burn out, even now when he looked ridiculous and was ready for it to be over. 

He wanted the release. He wanted to come in Geno’s ass so much that he was overflowing with it, wet and loose like pussy. But more than that, Sid wanted to _win_. He had lost the bet but he was going to win this, crop top and split shorts and dirty dishes be damned. 

He braced his feet against the floor and pushed Geno into the bed and fucked his hips in, a first deep roll. He knew Geno’s body by now, after the year and more they’d been doing this, and knew what it meant when Geno jerked sharply and groaned. “There?” Sid said, not really a question, and did it again. The angle wasn’t great; his abs were having to do more of the work than he liked. But as long as Geno was making that noise, he wasn’t going to mix things up.

Geno was jaw-droppingly wet and soft and tight around him, like none of the previous times Sid had fucked him raw and left him dripping had left any lasting mark on his body. Sid gripped Geno’s sweaty arm and gave it to him good, biting down hard on his tongue to distract himself from how the plug felt inside him, rocking against his prostate as he moved. He wasn’t as sensitive to it as Geno was, but that wasn’t saying much, because Geno could come with nothing but two fingers working at him. With the plug in his ass and his cock buried in Geno’s slick heat, Sid was already gliding along the hot edge of orgasm, fending it off with every thrust.

He fucked Geno as well as he could, driving in hard and deep to make Geno moan. It was easy, kind of, to let his body do the work without thinking about it, and try to focus on anything but Geno sweaty and breathless and squirming beneath him. But also really fucking hard, because it was Geno, and he was so hot and Sid loved him, increasingly more every time they did this dumb shit and Geno indulged him and never made fun of him for it afteward, like it was totally okay and normal that Sid liked this weird stuff.

“Geno,” he said, a little frantically, because thinking about his feelings was doing the opposite of distracting him from his orgasm. “Are you--how close are you?”

“Just little--” Geno said, voice tense and choked around the words, head hanging low, clearly at orgasm’s edge. Sid could see the sweaty curls at the back of his head, dripping and shiny in the light, and he thrust in a few quick times, uncaring about how good he felt when he knew Geno would blow over. And right on schedule, Geno gripped his hands in the damp sheets and blew a bunch of air out noisily through his mouth the way Sid was used to and came, no doubt making a huge wet mess of the bed. 

“Good?” Sid asked, slumping down over Geno’s lax body, feeling smug about the fact that he’d lasted for any time at all, even if he was about to lose it. He bit at the back of Geno’s flushed neck and snapped in a few more times, short sharp rolls of his hips, just the way he liked to, and came, feeling the blood rush out of his head and all the way down his body in hot waves. 

They lay there like that for a few minutes. Sid could feel Geno breathing through the sweaty rise and fall of his back. It felt like maybe he could fall asleep like this, his body boneless and exhausted from being keyed-up all day, but the destroyed shorts were uncomfortable around his legs and his toes dangled above the carpet a little. 

“Hey, G?” Sid pressed a few wet kisses to the flushed, bunched-up muscles between Geno’s shoulderblades and extracted himself, stumbling up onto his feet and sliding the shorts down his legs and off, discarding the wet, tattered remains over the back of a chair. “You passing out on me?” 

Geno turned to look at him, not without a drawn-out, grumpy noise. “I’m maybe take nap while you finish clean?”

“Oh my God,” Sid said, trying not to let his heart warm at the sight of Geno fucked out and sleepy and still a complete asshole. “You’re lucky I don’t throw what’s left of those shorts right in your face.”

Geno smiled and closed his eyes. “Most lucky. Always win bet against Sid.”

“Ugh.” Sid rolled his eyes, determined not to look at Geno, and he turned to leave. They were done and the plug in his ass was getting uncomfortable, plus now the idea of cleaning was kind of enticing if it meant exhausting some of the nervous, leftover energy rattling around post-fuck. 

Geno reached out, eyes still closed, and grabbed Sid’s wrist like he could tell from the shift of floorboards and Sid’s huffy exhale exactly where Sid was going. “Hey, no. I’m joke. Stay.”

“All right,” Sid said, softening at once. Cleaning could wait. Geno would be asleep in five minutes, and Sid would stay with him until then, listening to the contented noises Geno made as he settled into a comfortable position in the bed. 

Sid went into the washroom first to remove the plug and clean up a little. By the time he went back out to the bedroom, Geno had hauled himself up to the head of the bed and made a nest for himself in the pillows. He looked like he was mostly asleep already, but he stirred when Sid climbed onto the bed and lifted one arm, showing Sid the warm space beside his body where he wanted Sid to lie.

Geno was sweaty and he smelled great. Sid nestled in. Geno pulled him close with a sleepy groan and kissed Sid’s forehead. “Love you, Sid.”

Sid tucked his smile against Geno’s throat. Maybe he’d sleep for a while after all.


End file.
